


Experiment 49

by RegalMisfortune



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Hallucinations, mindfuckery, possible hinting of future character death, reality confusion, really this thing is kind of trippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3482993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegalMisfortune/pseuds/RegalMisfortune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I thought up this drabble during the middle of the night. Of course I was probably half-delirious from the lack of sleep but...no matter.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Experiment 49

**Author's Note:**

> I thought up this drabble during the middle of the night. Of course I was probably half-delirious from the lack of sleep but...no matter.

It had started out with footsteps. It was almost inaudible at first, a muffled noise that was drowned out with whirring and clanking of machinery. It progressively became more common, and the sound grew more defined- a click of someone’s heel, a scrape of a sole against tile. It had gotten to the point where he would think it was Honeydew or Lalna walking behind him and he would begin to ask them something until he turned around and find out that there was no one there.

Then followed displaced background noises. A slam of a door that would make Xephos jump despite him being a hundred meters down in a mineshaft where no doors would ever be found, what sounded like someone dropping a set of keys when none of them had any keys for anything which led to Xephos inquiring who broke what, because what else would it be besides either Honeydew or Lalna breaking something? Yet all he would receive was denial of anything being dropped or broken, leaving him in more confusion than before.

This was before he started hearing the voices. These too started off inaudible, a muted murmur that at first Xephos brushed off as someone talking in the other room or the sound of the machinery. Yet it transformed into words, jagged incomplete sentences that would fade and made no sense to anything that Xephos knew.

_“The stimuli seem to be working normally.”_

It was worse when Xephos was sleeping. His dreams were filled with looming shadows, whispers of scientific-esque jargon that faded out before he could grasp fully of the conversation. And that was when the pain began.

Sharp jabs into his flesh, the needle-like tingling sensation coursing through his body much like that one moment he accidentally took hold of an exposed wire, only that he was still gripping onto it. Cool metal pressed against him, sliding across the exposed skin, forming a lattice of cuts and scars that he was sure weren’t there before.

_“Recovery rate is still extraordinarily high. Please note-“_

Both Honeydew and Lalna noticed the lack of sleep. They had also noticed the faint twitches of when Xephos was awake, how he would answer questions that no one asked. They blamed his fatigue for it, hallucinations for his refusal to sleep, and tried time and time again to persuade the man to put down the wrench and crawl under the covers. But Xephos would shake his head, clinging to whatever took he had in his hand so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He did not need sleep, did not want sleep, not with what happens whenever he closed his eyes.

The only argument he could not win was with his own body. Many times he had begun to doze off at the machinery, at the crafting tables, even during meals. Each time he would feel something cut through his flesh or words whisper in his ears and he would jolt awake with such violent movements that it would startle both Honeydew and Lalna. No, he could not sleep. Not now. Not ever.

Yet it was a fight he could not win as his eyelids slid closed and he slumped against the work bench, the pen he had been holding slipping from his fingertips and clattering to the floor as the heavy weight of sleep fell upon his shoulders.

There were wires above him. Xephos blinked, his brow furrowing as he gazed at the maze of wires. His eyes followed one of the many trails, twisting and turning until it came down and attached to his arm.

His lips formed a silent question, a frown creasing his features as he lifted his arms. They felt heavy and stiff, like he had been sleeping for a very long time. Both were littered with wires hooked up to pads that were placed onto his skin. His fingers felt numb and inexperienced as he fumbled with the wires, frantic as to why they were hooked up to him. They fell away easily, but he became entangled in them as he scrambled to sit up, to stand and to figure out _what the hell was going on_.

His body felt just as stiff as his arms had, heavy and tired as his muscles complained while he pushed himself up. He had been laying down on a metal table in a dark room, the only lights on being the tiny blinking reds, greens, and yellows of machinery lining the walls and a single white ray that appeared from under a doorway. His heart pattered against his chest as he gingerly lowered himself to the floor, bare feet touching cool tile. His legs were shaky, but they held his weight as he shuffled quietly to the door. His fingers touched cold metal of a handle as he groped at it, twisting and pushing the door open.

He was immediately blinded by bright white lights, causing him to blink wildly to chase away the black spots in his vision. He found himself in a hallway made of white tiles and white walls, leading what seemed to be for miles in either direction. Cautiously Xephos stepped out, bare feet scuffing against the smooth tile. The hallway was empty, but he could hear quiet music playing somewhere towards the left, muffled behind a door.

Xephos moved towards the source of the music, questions forming in his mind. Where was he? Why was he here? What was going on?

He approached a door that was ajar, the music filtering through the crack. He shifted anxiously before reaching a hand out, pale fingers pushing the door open enough for him to see the contents inside.

The room contained a desk covered in papers and files. A monitor with a glowing blue screen was off to the side. Music was coming from a small thing perched on one of the many shelves that lined the walls. But these were not the things he paid attention to; it was the man that was seated behind the desk.

“H-honeydew…?” His voice cracked, feeble from disuse. The man looked up, black eyes seeming to pierce through him. He looked like Honeydew with the neatly braided vibrant orange hair and the strong rounded shoulders, but the clothes he wore were clean and white and his face lacked the cheerfulness that the shorter man always seemed to radiate. No, this Honeydew was cold, gazing at Xephos with an appraising look.

“Experiment 49 should not be mobile,” he stated, but he was not looking at Xephos, more like someone that was behind him.

It was a warning too late as electricity arched through him. A scream caught in his throat as Xephos collapsed, his vision blinded for a second time, only this time by pain. He twisted and writhed on the floor as strong hands grabbed hold of him, pinning him harshly to the floor.

“Xephos!”

Xephos’s head jerked sharply, blinking blearily as his vision swam into focus. Two pairs of eyes were staring at him, one soft blue the other gentle black as warm hands held his wrists and the other set gripped his ankles. His heart was hammering in his chest and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath, breathing in short, frantic breaths.

“I-I-I” he stammered, his eyes wide as he frantically searched Honeydew’s face, finding the familiar creases of laughter around the eyes. The dwarf smiled, but it did not reach his eyes, glinting with worry. “Get him some tea, will you?” he asked Lalna without taking his eyes off Xephos.

Xephos did not see Lalna nod and leave, nor did he see Honeydew remove his hands from his wrists and help prop him up against the workshop wall beside the bench that he had fallen from. Xephos did not see any of this, staring at his shaking fingers as his mind raced. Everything seemed so real, both here and in the dream. Yet which one was reality, and which one was the dream? Which one? How was he supposed to decide?

_“Experiment 49 is a failure. Extermination is imminent.”_


End file.
